<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>2PM by The_lazy_eye</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896195">2PM</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_lazy_eye/pseuds/The_lazy_eye'>The_lazy_eye</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Junctures in Time [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Descriptions of depression, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Falling In Love, Frog Dissection, Graduation, Growing Up Together, Hurt/Comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:46:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,153</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896195</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_lazy_eye/pseuds/The_lazy_eye</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Glimpses of Anne and Gilbert through the years. </p><p>——<br/>A prequel of sorts to 4AM, can be read as a stand alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Junctures in Time [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>2PM</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They’re twelve and in trouble.</p><p>While everyone else gets to go outside for a free period they’re stuck in a dingy classroom washing whiteboards and listening to Mr. Phillips rant about classroom etiquette.</p><p>“The behavior you two displayed was reprehensible!”</p><p>He can see her from the corner of his eye, furiously organizing the rulers and markets into their respective bins. Her hands move in a violent flurry and the clatter is so loud it nearly drowns out their lecture. It should be annoying but it’s not.</p><p>He’s not sure he’ll ever be annoyed with her.</p><p>“And from my best student, Gilbert. What were you thinking? Anne I might understand, she’s not yet accustomed to traditional schooling, but you?”</p><p>Gilbert’s eyes snap back to the whiteboard almost immediately, busying himself with the spray and cloth. Maybe if he scrubbed hard enough, he’d be able to see his reflection. Maybe mirror people could come and swap places with him so he doesn’t have to feel the burn of her eyes on his neck.</p><p>Anne’s movements in the corner of the room stopped entirely. There’s no more ruckus to distract from Mr. Phillips’s cruel words.</p><p>He’s being so unfair. They don’t know anything about Anne’s life from before Avonlea, why should they judge her? Maybe she got a fine education in her last foster home – maybe even better than here! And even if she didn’t it wasn’t in her control. How could they hold that against her?</p><p>He thinks he would like to know, someday, what kind of education it was. Not because he wants to hold something against her, though. He just wants to know.</p><p>He’s curious like that. He wants to know everything about her.</p><p>“I will not tolerate such disruptions in my classroom. Let this be a lesson to you, Miss Shirley.”</p><p>What’s even less fair is that she didn’t do anything wrong! It was all Gilbert’s fault. He’s the one who tugged on her braid, she was only defending herself. Isn’t that what they teach you, anyway? When someone picks on you, you need to stand up for yourself?</p><p>Guess that doesn’t apply to girls. It should, though.</p><p>He’s about to open his mouth to say something, beg Mr. Phillips to let Anne go outside with the other girls, but he doesn’t get the chance.</p><p>“Miss Shirley-<em>Cuthbert</em>.”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“My name is Miss Anne Shirley-<em>Cuthbert</em>. If you’re going to address me so formally, I’d appreciate you using my full and correct name. And please, spell Anne with an <em>E</em>. I’ve noticed you have a habit of accidentally forgetting.”</p><p>Gilbert chances another look over his shoulder. Anne is standing there like one of those  Greek goddess they learned about last week, arms crossed and braids thrown back over her shoulder. She’s got fire in her expression and ice in her voice as she corrects their teacher.</p><p>This isn’t going to go over well for her.</p><p>“I assure you, it is no mistake, Miss Shirley. Your name on my roster says Anne Shirley and that is what I shall call you. I will not entertain such foolishness. If I allow you to make up your last name all willy-nilly then the other kids will start doing it. Then what? I’ll have a classroom full of nonsense! School is for learning, not make-believe. No, you will be called by your given name and that is all.”</p><p>“But I am a Cuthbert! I’ve signed the family bible!”</p><p>“One more word from you and you’ll be cleaning this classroom until the end of the year!” He bellows, sending them both curling in on themselves. Gilbert’s never been a fan of being yelled at. His father is gentle handled and soft-spoken, preferring to correct rather than scold.</p><p>Anne’s reaction is more severe. She drops the markers she was holding and they go scattering across the tile. Her little body sinks close to the ground and her small arms come up to cover the side of her face and back of her head. She’s shaking.</p><p>She’s shaking and it’s all Gilbert’s fault.</p><p>Man, his dad is going to be so mad when he gets home. He didn’t mean to bully her, really. He’d never call pigtail pulling bullying, but he’s also never thought of it before. He’d never wanted to pull pigtails, never understood it until she turned her shoulder toward him and started building a brick wall with her back.</p><p>He just wanted to get her attention. She’s so pretty and interesting. He’s never wanted to be someone’s friend so badly before.</p><p>She won’t look at him as he hands a bushel of markers back to her. She hardly even thanks him before scurrying back to her part of the classroom.</p><p>He just wanted to be her friend.</p><p>When they’re dismissed, he catches up with her. His apple had gone uneaten during lunch, so he grabbed it from his backpack and now stands proudly next to her and she gathers her own things.</p><p>“I’m really sorry, Anne. I didn’t mean to make fun of your hair, I think it’s really pretty.”</p><p>She doesn’t answer him. Her eyes never once dart in his direction. For all he knows, he’s invisible to her.</p><p>“Please don’t be mad for keeps.”</p><p>He holds the apple out as if to punctuate his apology. For a second, he thinks she’s going to accept his apology.</p><p>However, instead of taking the fruit, she knocks it out of his hand and walks right out the door.</p><p>_________________________</p><p>They’re fourteen and fighting</p><p>“You’re not doing it right.”</p><p>He watches as she presses a scalpel into the chest of their specimen. Her hand is shaky, but she insisted on being the one to make the cut. <em>I am no coward,</em> she shouted. No, she isn’t. But she is making the incision in the wrong place.</p><p>“I’m doing it <em>fine</em>.”</p><p>“You’re really not,” He tries again, leaning over her and reaching out to adjust her hand. She snatches her hand back, chest before crossing her arms and glaring daggers at him. If looks could kill he’d be a dead man walking.</p><p>“I don’t need you hovering over my shoulder and micromanaging me!”</p><p>“Fine,” He grits out, sitting down in his chair. She presses the scalpel in again and he counts to three, watching as she presses down too hard in the wrong spot. There’s a crack, a yelp, and then a soft curse under her breath.</p><p>“You cut through the organs, didn’t you?”</p><p>“Shut up,” She seethes. “I can fix it.”</p><p>He gets back up to peek over her shoulder. The frog is still salvageable. If they’re careful about how they continue, they should be able to write their lab report up just fine. The issue is that she’s not relenting with that damn scalpel. If she makes one more botched incision, they’re going to fail.</p><p>“Anne, you should really let me –”</p><p>“Gilbert Blythe, I swear –”</p><p>“Anne, this is a partner project and we’re partners. You need to let me –”</p><p>“I am perfectly capable of –”</p><p>Something inside of him stops and then starts again, kindling a fire in his gut. He hates when she gets like this. Everything is a stupid competition. Sure, it can be fun but this is their grade! Not some dumb spelling test.</p><p>“This isn’t about being capable!” He reaches over and grabs her hand. He tries to be gentle, really, he does, but she refuses to stop cutting. So, he does the only logical thing he can think and yanks her hand away from the frog. It accomplishes his goal of keeping what’s left of their poor frog intact, but it also creates a whole new problem.</p><p>The kind of problem that involves Gilbert and Anne fighting over an incredibly sharp and dangerous object. The kind of problem that can only end with one of them bleeding and hurt.</p><p>“Ow!”</p><p>Part of him is thankful that it’s him who gets hurt and not her, but he’s still angry about it.</p><p>Sometimes, he thinks they’re okay. He’s laughed and talked with her more times in the last few months than he has since they met. For so long, she wouldn’t even look at him but he’s been able to slowly worm his way into her life.</p><p>Sometimes, he thinks they’re friends.</p><p>Sometimes, he wants to rip his goddamn hair out.</p><p>There’s a sizable gash on his arm. Not too big or too deep, but it’s enough for their teacher to come over and begin fussing. Before he knows it, they’re both being ushered out of the classroom and Anne’s being instructed to make sure he makes it to the nurse’s office in one piece. As if he can’t do it by himself.</p><p>She looks just as indignant about it as he feels. Which is why he can’t help himself from saying, “If you just listened to me, this wouldn’t have happened!”</p><p>She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring ahead. “Me? If you hadn’t grabbed my hand you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. That’s not lab safety!”</p><p>“I wouldn’t have had to grab your hand if you weren’t butchering our frog!”</p><p>“You always have to be so big, why can’t you just let me work? Why are you so scared of me being better than you?”</p><p>God, she burns him up! Why did he ever try being her friend?</p><p>His teeth grind in his skull. The cut in his arm stings and his head hurts from the tension that winds its way into his temples. It’s no use trying to talk to her when she’s not listening. It’s not about being better than her, it’s about working together. She wouldn’t listen to him and now he’s hurt and they’re both going to get bad marks. If she would have just let him cut she could have done everything else. He would have gladly let her! But no, her pride is far too big for that.</p><p>Sometimes, he thinks, her pride is so big she’ll never be able to truly be his friend.</p><p>Interesting, pretty, fiery Anne Shirley-Cuthbert is far too big to allow him into her life.</p><p>They’re almost to the nurse’s office when she speaks up again. “Gilbert?” The ire is gone from her voice. “Is your arm going to be okay?”</p><p>He glances over to see her timid expression matches her voice. Whatever fight he had left in him starts to deflate. Still, though, he keeps himself guarded.  “I’ll be fine.”</p><p>She’s quiet again until they arrive, and then she’s looking up at him outside the office door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”</p><p>She looks awfully sorry. He knows she means it.</p><p>“It’s okay, Anne. It hardly hurts at all.”</p><p>Suddenly, his anger seems silly. She hadn’t <em>meant</em> to hurt him, that much is clear as day. Why should he hold so tightly onto an accident? After all, she’s forgiven his much harsher crimes.</p><p>They stare at each other for another moment before he places his hand on the door. “Get back to class, I’ll see you later.”</p><p>She nods and scurries away. He watches her go for a moment. Little-big Anne in all her passion. He can’t be mad at her for long. She’s far too unique.</p><p>_________________________</p><p>They’re sixteen and he’s splintering.</p><p>It’s a soft little rap at the door that wakes him up. Just three light little taps on the wood.</p><p>He doesn’t move though. It’s comfortable where his body is pressed into the mattress, blankets all tangled in his legs and hair plastered to the pillowcase. His whole body feels weighed down by bricks, pressing his stomach and face deeper and deeper into the sea of sheets until he drowns in the comfort of it all.</p><p>That sounds kind of nice.</p><p>He doesn’t really get to relish in it, though. The bed bows beside him, shifting a few times before stilling again. A new warmth seeps into the sheets. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know who it is.</p><p>He does, anyway. She’s staring at him with soft eyes and an ever so slight frown.</p><p>“Good morning,” She says. It’s not morning, but neither of them bothers to point that out. “Bash said I could find you up here.”</p><p>He grunts, his voice still thick with sleep.</p><p>“How are you feeling?”</p><p>He shrugs, too tired to really answer. Or maybe he doesn’t want to say it out loud. His feelings are big and nasty and they come in the nighttime. Monsters and beasts that claw at his legs and pull him down, down, down into the depths of despair. Anne might appreciate that, she’s always been fond of tragic and sorrowful things. But this feels different, somehow. He’s no page in a romance novel, he’s living and breathing flesh. Tragic things are only beautiful when they’re hopeful. There’s no hope in him. The claws are burrowed into his calves and shins. They pull.</p><p>He won’t say it out loud. He doesn’t have the words for it. Thankfully, she understands.</p><p>“I brought Netflix and soup. Marilla made it. She said she accidentally doubled the batch but I think she did it on purpose. Be humble, Anne, she always says but the second Bash and Mary compliment her cooking she’s making any excuse to send leftovers.”</p><p>Her smile tugs at the corner of his lips ever so slightly. </p><p>“I also snuck some snacks out the cupboard. I had some leftover caramels from when Matthew took me into Charlottetown and we just bought a box of Swiss Rolls, so I grabbed two of them. If Marilla asks, I’m just going to tell her I got carried away. You can have both if you want, I know they’re your favorite.”</p><p>He wants to laugh but it gets caught in the back of his throat.</p><p>She’s lying in the part of the bed that the sunlight hits just right. He was lying there himself a while ago, but when the sun began its early descent he rolled out of it and into the shade. There’s a crisp line down the center of his bed where the window sneaks that swath of light in and she bathes in it. All at once, he feels so close and so far away. Easily, he could reach out and touch her.</p><p>He is darkness and she is light. He is gray and she is golden. He is a black hole that consumes everything in his sight and she is the supernova spilling her guts all over the universe.</p><p>She should go. He’ll only destroy her light.</p><p>She’s still smiling at him, but it falters when she stops talking. He never wants to be the reason her smile falters. The sight burns deep in his chest.</p><p>“Have you started Schitt’s Creek?”</p><p>He shakes his head.</p><p>“Well, you won’t be able to say that, anymore. We’re gonna watch it today. It’s so funny! I saw some of the first season when I stayed the night at Diana’s last week. How did this show slip under my radar? I promise you’ll like it. It’s funny and ridiculous and you don’t have to pay attention the whole time if you don’t want to. You know, one of those easy to chew shows.”</p><p>The idea of doing anything is exhausting. His whole body throbs and aches even though he hasn’t done anything in days. Where December is basically an intravenous of dopamine and serotonin, January is an empty chasm. December has classes well into the month followed by the flurry of Christmas. The pantomime is a cherished tradition, steeped in anticipation and joy. The following days bring love as he watches his loved ones smile and</p><p>But without fail, January follows. It’s grave swallows up whatever happiness he had left and leaves him hollowed out. It’s easy to forget about the graveyard outside his window when there’s always something to do and somewhere to be; but as they take down the decorations and begin to slip into the pattern of the new year, he finds he cannot stitch himself shut.</p><p>The week between new years and school restarting is the worst. There’s nothing left to occupy him and the nighttime always sinks its teeth into him.</p><p>“I’m tired, Anne-girl,” He whispers. His eyes slip shut in what was only meant to be a slow blink, but is now the beckoning call of sleep.</p><p>“I know,” She says. The bed bows again and he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know she’s standing. Maybe she’s grabbing her backpack and those snacks, maybe she’s grabbing her computer to start the show up anyway.</p><p>Maybe she’s leaving.</p><p>Maybe she’s finally tired of his annual pity party.</p><p>He’s about to let himself sink back into unsatisfying sleep when he feels hands press against his back. “Move,” She says and he does. He lets her push him into the warmth of that sun swathed patch and then the bed tips again. He feels her knees knock against his spine as she crawls behind him; feels her body press against his as she settles.</p><p>Feels her arms wrap around his middle.</p><p>They lay there like that for a while, Anne pressing her warmth into him and the low winter sun hanging heavy in the room.</p><p>Eventually, they pull out her laptop and he settles his head into the crook of her shoulder. They eat soup and sweets, Mary brings them tea.</p><p>The ache in his bones settles. Even if just for a little bit.</p><p>_________________________</p><p>They’re eighteen and graduating.</p><p>It feels like a lifetime of accomplishments, like he’s spent his entire life building up to this one single moment. It feels like it happened overnight, like he blinked and was suddenly standing on this stage, delivering his speech as salutatorian to the people he’s known since he was in diapers.</p><p>His new family watches him from the audience and his old family watches from the clouds. Beside him, Anne stands wrapped in her own gown, watching him deliver the speech he spent the last two weeks pouring over. A speech she proofread herself.</p><p>He wonders if she caught the heavy on it, not only his playful allegory to the days she changed his view on the world but how she’s subtly laced through the entire thing. She’s there, in between every word he wrote.</p><p>“The time has come for us to chase our dreams. For some of us, we’ve known where we want to go for some time now. For others, we’re still figuring it out. Both of those are okay. Whatever your next steps are, take them with pride.” He glances over to find her still watching him, and so he says the next words directly to her. “The world is wide open. It’s an adventure waiting to happen. So, go and chase your dreams, Avonlea. They’re waiting for you.”</p><p>She’s the first one to clap, bouncing on the tips of her toes and squealing. As soon as he steps away from the podium, she rushes into his arms and whispers praise into his ear. Then, she’s taking her own place at the podium. She’s radiant, caught in the sunlight coming down on their graduating class and soaking in it. She is the burning embers of the blazing path she left in her wake, changing everything and everyone she came in contact with. For better, always for better.</p><p>He’s better, that’s for sure.</p><p>After all is said and done, they’re holding their high school diplomas and standing on the grass in front of their beloved school. She’s surrounded by her family, crying into Matthew’s arms as they take picture after picture. He can’t tear his eyes away from her, not even when his own family comes to congratulate him.</p><p>He doesn’t know when or how it happened. It came on like the rain, inevitable and uncontrollable. One day the sun is shining bright in the sky and the next brings rain sinking into the ground, the crops, the flowers.</p><p>He’s in love with her.</p><p>“Blythe, come on now, smile!” Bash calls and it catches Gilbert’s attention well enough. He holds his diploma out in front of him and smiles once by himself, once with his niece wiggling happily in his arms, and once with Anne by his side.</p><p>They all huddle in front of the hold brick building, passing a camera off to a passerby and blending into the only thing he’s ever known as true and steady love. It fills every inch of him until he’s beaming and laughing and crying, all at once.</p><p>Marilla tells him she’s proud of him, that his father would be, too. He cries harder.</p><p>“Alright, we’ll meet you two back at the house,” Mary tells him, taking Delphine from his arms.</p><p>“We’ll be there,” He says back. He’d offered to drive Anne after Marilla mentioned she still had a few more things to pick up.</p><p>“Take your time,” She whispers.</p><p>The field behind them has mostly cleared out. all of their friends have gone off with their families to celebrate. Everyone’s got some kind of plan for the afternoon. Diana has gone off to an extravagant lunch with her extended family, Ruby’s mother has taken her out shopping as a present, and it’s a tradition in Moody’s family to take a road trip.</p><p><em>We have plans, too,</em> he reminds himself. <em>We have somewhere to be</em>.</p><p>It doesn’t feel rushed, though. Sometimes, he feels this urgent, pressing need to be in the next place and do the next thing. It pounds in his chest and tickles the bottom of his feet until he’s moving. Always moving.</p><p>Not right now, though. He’s more than content to watch the Cuthbert and Lacroix caravans take their leave back to his farm. They’ll meet them there when they’re ready.</p><p>Minutes pass between them in silence until she says, “How beautiful.”</p><p>He wants to echo it but their words won’t have the same meaning.</p><p>“Did it pass by quickly?” She asks, settling into the grass and leaning back against the building. He shoots her a curious look, but settles beside her. The warmth of the brick seeps into his back and he lets his eyes close as the afternoon washes over him. “You’ve spent your whole life here. I feel as though I’ve only just arrived. And now it’s ended?”</p><p>“It’s not over, Anne. Avonlea is your home, it isn’t going anywhere.”</p><p>“No, but things have changed. They can never go back. I’ll never walk into this building again, or hear the wise words of Ms. Stacy. I’ll never sing in choir or dance in the halls. You won’t be waiting for me at the end of my drive every morning.”</p><p>She says the last part softly, almost as if it pains her to get the words out. It pulls at something deep in the center of his chest. He wants to reach out and take her hand, so he does. She welcomes it, clinging to him like a lifeline.</p><p>“I’m not ready, Gil. I don’t want to chase my dreams yet.”</p><p>“Things are changing, yeah, but it’s not all bad. This school wasn’t meant to be your forever, Anne. There are new buildings waiting for you to step inside. New teachers waiting to pass their knowledge onto you. And no, I won’t be waiting in your driveway but I’ll be waiting outside your dorm, if you’d like.”</p><p>They’re both going to college up in the city. Redmond offered them both a full scholarship, him for pre-med and Anne and early childhood education. They could have gone to any school in the world but Anne was desperate to remain close to home and Gilbert couldn’t pass up the opportunity to avoid student debt. Toronto had only offered partial tuition and any other full ride was too far for him to want to venture.</p><p>He squeezes her hand and she gives him a watery smile in return.</p><p>“You know, before I came here I never once thought I’d be so blessed as to receive a college education.”</p><p>He doesn’t know much about her life before Avonlea. Not for lack of effort, of course. Anne just never seemed too interested in talking about it. <em>The past is a dreadful thing, sometimes, </em>she would say. He dropped it after a while, not wanting to pry too hard and open doors he couldn’t close.</p><p>“I never thought I’d have friends so wonderful and a family that loves me. I’m not ready to leave it behind. It’s like I’m being pulled in two directions.”</p><p>“Their love is not proximal. Neither is Diana’s or Cole’s. Or mine. You can have both love and opportunity, it’s not mutually exclusive.”</p><p>She considers his words for a moment, letting her own head fall back against the brick. Finally, she smiles.</p><p>“I love you, Gil. You’re my best friend.”</p><p>He loves her, too. Oh, how he loves her. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bitches will post a fic and then be like “I’m not gonna write anymore of this” and then write more a week later. It’s me. I’m bitches. </p><p>Y’all this is the power of comments I stg. I posted that fic feeling very ambivalent toward the final product and then y’all SWOOPED into the comments section like a bunch of angels and it made me feel so inspired and warm. And then some of y’all were like “x was interesting” or “it would be cool if there was more” and I was like I wonder what it would be like to do x and here we are. When I write a fic, I’m always thinking about history and background for the characters, why they might do what they do, where they used to be, where they’d go in the future. That stuff almost never makes it into fics but always informs my writing. So, I never seriously thought I’d continue in this universe but reading everyone’s reactions and thoughts inspired the hell out of me to go back and really flesh out their relationship in HS. So, here we are. I’m toying with another piece for this universe. We’ll see if it makes it onto paper. </p><p>In other news, I finished my master’s degree thesis and I’m really excited about it. I’m one assignment from my degree and then 7 long years in higher ed will come to a close… at least until I go for my doctorate. Won’t be for a while though. But I have a copious amount of free time and mental energy now! Which is great! If you have any prompts you’d like to see written, send some over my way. I’d love to toy around with some more stories and ideas.</p><p>Come chat with me @ thelazyeye.tumblr.com. I’m also on discord! If you’d like to connect there, I can give you my handle in a DM through Tumblr or drop a comment saying you’d like it.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>